Darren Endymion's Blog, page 18

C = Cannibalism, A to Z Blog Challenge

Cannibalism is the act of eating one’s own species. Some peoples practiced it as part of their culture. Others resort to it in times of famine or terrible ordeal, like the Donner Party. Still others are just sick and have problems, like Albert Fish (NEVER look this man up unless you have a strong stomach) or Jeffrey Dahmer.

In case your sick ass was wondering. No judgment, though.

This first example, those who practiced cannibalism from a cultural standpoint, may eat the brain and heart of a deceased loved one as a sign of respect, or to absorb the power of those recently dead from within the tribe. Still others would eat intruders as a way of showing dominance and taking on the life essence and strength of the victim.

There is a natural aversion to cannibalism. It’s featured in all sorts of horror stories, from the absurd to the pulp to the downright terrifying. I’m not certain what horrifies people the most — the thought of eating someone else or of being eaten oneself. Both seem equally terrifying to me. The closest I ever came to understanding this tribal concern was, oddly enough, reading Anne Rice’s Queen of the Damned. Two of the characters are from the long, long ago and ate their loved ones as a sign of respect. I’m not saying I would ever do it, but I think it speaks to the power of characterization that I was able to understand. Then again, I was very young when I read it. Who knows?

The second type of cannibalism is those who do so out of horrid necessity, usually like the Donner Party, who were trapped in a terrible blizzard on their trek through the Sierra Nevadas to California in 1846-1847. The winter was cruel, and the settlers wandered around in circles trying to find their destination or help. Out of the original party of 87 people, only 48 survived, and they did so largely by eating their dead. Many of these survivors were tortured by what they did forever after. These weren’t people culturally trained to honor their loved ones by consuming the organs said to house the essential self. This would be like you suffering the grief and loss of losing your brother or wife or husband and then being forced to eat them to stay alive. Today, the tragedy has taken on the feel and strain of a joke, the way one will laugh away the thoughts of impending death.

Unless you’re The Simpsons. Then it’s just funny.

I imagine the opposite effect from the cannibal tribal mentality was in effect here — aware they were taking their loved ones into them to sustain themselves, the survivors were traumatized by it rather than thinking they were honoring the dead. Always aware that they survived as a result of their dead loved ones. It’s a horrible thought for modern sensibilities.

Unless you are a sick individual and a serial killer.

Now, I researched the two aforementioned cannibalistic serial killers, Albert Fish and Jeffrey Dahmer, making myself nauseated. I had read about them before, and refreshing my memory was…unpleasant. I even wrote a bit about each of them, but the blog post was getting longer and longer, and I figure this will be an unpopular entry anyway, so I will merely link to their respective Wikipedia pages and allow you to read on your own.

Albert Fish: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Fish

Jeffrey Dahmer: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeffrey_Dahmer

All this horror and morally reprehensible talk is both interesting and revolting. Personally, when I read the details of Dahmer and Fish’s crimes, I was nauseated, and that is why we have a truncated version here. All in all, it does make the one cannibal in our hearts and minds seem positively tame by comparison.

Fiction doesn’t compare to reality. At least we can tell ourselves that he doesn’t exist.

Alternate letter considerations: Cryptozoology, Catherine de Medici, Cthulu (this one was tempting, but I got it elsewhere on this month’s list), and chupacabras.

B = Beetlejuice, A to Z Blog Challenge

Best 80s movie ever? Best Tim Burton movie? Possibly.Since there may be one or two people in the world, possibly reading this blog, who have not seen this 1988 treasure of a movie, I am here to discuss the plot. But first, you must know that it is a comedy directed by Tim Burton. Though I personally like Mars Attacks, I would have to say that Beetlejuice is exactly sixteen billion times better than Mars Attacks. It is a joy and a treasure. Shall we discuss?

Adam (a very young Alec Baldwin) and Barbara Maitland (Geena Davis) are two happy country folk in a large, folksy house, in the folksiest town the world has ever known. When going to the store, they die (it’s Tim Burton. Did you think it was going to be about childbirth, flowers, and rainbows?). Returning home, they find strange things going on — they have no reflections, they can’t step outside the house without being attacked by a striped worm straight out of Dune, and there are funky things that are now lying around the house, namely a manual, the Handbook for the Recently Deceased (which, by the way, reads like stereo instructions). Their house is sold to Charles, a businessman recovering from a neurotic breakdown (Jeffrey Jones), Delia, an obnoxious, ultra-modern sculptor (Catherine O’Hara), and their gothic daughter, Lydia (an impossibly young Winona Ryder). The family (mainly the wife/step-mother and her faaaaabulous assistant, Otho) redesign the house.

House before: Country Corners

 

House after: 80s Modern Chic. Where every kid in the 80s wanted to live. Anyone who says otherwise is a bastard and a filthy liar.

 

Of course, Barbara and Adam, realizing they are ghosts and that they can’t stand the Deetzes (the new family), they attempt to scare them away. Unfortunately, despite ripping their own faces off, some head cutting, and a hangman’s noose later, they remember that the Handbook told them that the living usually won’t see the dead; they ignore the strange and unusual. However, Lydia IS strange and unusual, so she sees them and chases them down to the attic.

Lydia: the first and best gothic chick on the silver screen. Pretty tame by today’s standards.

 

Adam and Barbara escape into the business center of the afterlife, where suicide victims work in eternal civil service.

I don’t see the difference. Looks just like my office. Wait…am I DEAD?! Oh, no…that’s just Corporate America.

 

The afterlife caseworker is no help, so when Barbara and Adam return to a totally redesigned house, they try to get the family out themselves in a hokey, terrible sheet-attempt. Instead, they become friends with Lydia.

Later, the Maitlands happens on a conspicuously-timed TV advertisement for the one and only Beetlejuice, the afterlife’s leading bio-exorcist. To get his help, all you need to do is say his name three times. Now, I’m here to tell you that there were two kinds of 80s kids — those who tried it immediately to (what I hope and assume was) disappointment, and those who waited, realizing that they had to believe and actually need his help, too afraid to break the illusory spell that Beetlejuice would actually come. (Yes, I was one of the latter).

Our host for the evening, the ghost with the most himself…BEETLEJUICE!

 

Barbara and Adam instead decide to possess the family and their dinner party guests in what is arguably the best scene of the movie. Rather than this frightening the family and guests away, the Deetzes and company want the ghosts to attend more often. Disappointed, Adam and Barbara decline and the guests leave.

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Daaaaaaaaay-O!

Back to Beetlejuice! Played to utter insane perfection by Michael Keaton, he is rude, foul, perverted, and angry at being cooped up. Barbara and Adam quickly decide that they don’t want his help, but Beetlejuice intervenes anyway. He turns into a human-headed snake, drops Charles the father from the second story, knocks Otho downstairs, looks up Delia’s dress, and sends Lydia scampering away into a teenage temper tantrum. Barbara saves the day by (what else?) saying Beetlejuice’s name three times to send him back home. (Kind of a dumb weakness, but it’s his kryptonite. Who are we to judge?)

Lydia decides to kill herself to be with Barbara and Adam (and because she’s goth. Duh.), but runs into Beetlejuice instead. He says that he can take her to the other side (somehow it doesn’t seem to dawn on her that this means he plans to murderize her), but Barbara and Adam intervene and stop it.

The rest is pretty much the climax, so I will paraphrase and avoid more spoilers than I already have (for those two alleged people who haven’t seen the movie). Another dinner party happens, Otho conducts a séance, Barbara and Adam are in trouble, so Lydia runs to Beetlejuice for help. Beetlejuice describes himself as an illegal alien and insists that Lydia marry him in return for his help. She agrees, havoc ensues, people fight, teeth are spat out, mouths are zippered, the Dune worm makes another appearance, we get a lovely wedding dress, and the movie ends on a charming note.

Every gothic girl in America and beyond decided then and there that she would be married in this dress.

Nobody doesn’t like this movie. And if people you know say they don’t, they are lying. Ignore them and go watch it. Be happy. Bask in the 80s glory that was Tim Burton. Laugh, dance, and be merry.

Alternate letter considerations: Bates Motel, brazen bull, box jellyfish.

A = Astrology, A to Z Blog Challenge

I always thought that astrology was a bunch of crap, and I still think a lot of it is. However, you have to consider the source.

For example, I downloaded an astrology app on my phone that is pure comedic crap. Today it told me as a Taurus, “You can make complex ideas simple to understand — so step up and be the leader.” That’s it. My horoscope for the day. Deep, right? *rolling eyes* To give you a scope of the inanity, this was the horoscope for Leo today: “Your ability to mix it up with the right people means that you are drifting into a leadership role.” Uh, but…*pointing to Taurus* Cancer: “Today you’re in an excellent position to affect your crowd in a very positive way.” To spread the message of stupid generality, I give you Capricorn: “You’re hung up on something that happened a long time ago, but you’re not sure what to do about it now. You may just need to forgive and forget, though that is never the easiest thing to pull off.”

I almost deleted it immediately, but it was too funny to miss. This is the epitome of everything that makes horoscopes and astrology a joke. I’m certain that the horoscopes rotate for the signs throughout the year, so that mine for today was the Gemini horoscope last year, for instance.

In case you don’t know what your sign is (or the sign of the person you’re stalking. I’m not here to judge.)

However, astrology still fascinated me, and I think it was enhanced when I realized that kings and queens would use it. The reports are that Elizabeth I used it, as did Catherine de Medici. There are more, of course, but that’s not why we’re here.

I used to know a very, very nice woman who ran a local occult /Wicca / occult shop, Lady Desiree (lord, I miss that woman’s incense…and he, of course). I remember she once said that she wanted to do my full astrology chart (which are very involved and supposedly very accurate), but I didn’t know what time I was born so it never happened. This occurred to me when I was researching more astrology stuff, as well as the kings and queens.

Wheel of Astrology, turn, turn, turn. Tell us the lesson that we should learn. (Bonus points for knowing where I stole and changed that from).

So, I started reading my horoscope on Yahoo. You know that thing was sometimes shockingly accurate? And specific. Now, I refused to believe that Yahoo had the secrets to the Universe, so I clicked on the link and went to the main site: http://www.tarot.com/daily-horoscope

Sometimes it’s general, but it mentions the energy of the planets and the Moon very often. Since I love Sailor Moon, I was curious to tie the two together. As I read more from other sources, I came to realize that this site was pretty damned accurate. It talks about the retrograde motion of the planets (Venus is retrograde right now, meaning old lovers will pop up and emotional issues from the past will come up. Old crushes may come around for a second try *eying Prince Scientist*, stuff like that.)

The horoscopes there are free, but you can get your birth charts done pretty cheap (which is more about calculating where the planets were and are and how they affect you) and all sorts of tarot card readings (though I would personally not have it done by a computer but by a human — I’d do them myself, have them done face to face, or by a trusted friend). Even if you don’t want to go through all that, try the horoscopes on Yahoo. See if they don’t start to sound a little familiar and interesting.

Failing all that, or if you’re not into it…who cares? That was my subject for the day. Come back the rest of the month for less metaphysical stuff and much, much more randomness. See you Monday!

Alternate letter considerations: Absolutely Fabulous, Ageism, Anne Boleyn

Blog Idea Generator Hilarity

So, I didn’t know what to write this week. The irony is that I plan to do the A-Z blog challenge starting Saturday, and I have all those picked out or narrowed down to 4-5 possibilities. But a random day and a random topic? Lost. Suddenly, I’m bereft of ideas. I could use one of the A-Z ones I didn’t pick, but where’s the fun in that?

So, I decided to Google “random blog idea generator”. Who knew that was even a thing? I landed on this page with several different generators. http://www.wordstream.com/blog/ws/2015/02/12/blog-topic-generators

They are all okay, but this one cracks me up. http://www.portent.com/tools/title-maker

I have been thinking about wildlife conservation thanks to that foul dentist who lured and killed Cecil the lion in Zimbabwe. I’m not a fan of hunting for anything other than viable, sustainable food, and for culling numbers (like the overabundance of vicious wild hogs in the South). I personally couldn’t do it unless starving and would need a barf bag and seventeen do-overs. There’s a line from Stephen King’s Misery where Paul Sheldon thinks about his reluctance to kill Annie Wilkes, and he thinks that he’s like someone who loves a big, juicy steak but who wouldn’t last a minute in a slaughterhouse. That’s me. I prefer my meat to be as far from being a recognizable animal as possible. I’m a wuss. If I was put in a situation where it was kill or starve to death, I’m sure I would manage, but I wouldn’t make it a habit. Trophy hunting…I just find it grotesque and pathetically striving for some sort of power. But today isn’t about that.

Cecil’s death has a lot of people up in arms, and all I can hope for is that it makes people more aware of conservation of the critically endangered animals. (Granted, this dentist has also killed a polar bear, a rhino, a leopard, an elephant, and so on. But we’re not here to talk about him. Stop trying to make me, damn it!) It made me think about the recently ended Shark Week and the unspeakable act of hunting sharks for their fins. Yes, it is used for food, but not in the same way one might kill a deer to feed a family for weeks. It’s a delicacy for otherwise prosperous people in prosperous places. The fins are chopped off and the shark is tossed back in the water to drown (since most sharks need to swim to filter oxygen from the water), or be picked off by other predators while it lays there, unable to escape or defend itself.

I digress. I started thinking about oceans and sharks and thought I would use those as subjects in the blog subject generator. My favorite generator spits back ideas and little bubbles of thoughts to help you along, and some of them are hilarious. I will end this rambling post with some of the ideas and subsequent thought bubbles it spat at me when I used the words “ocean” and “shark”.

— How did oceans kill Kenny? (South Park has a high murder rate)

— Why oceans are scarier than dating Taylor Swift. (Why is she so popular? / Magic 8-Ball says you entered “pickles.” / The fear factor? / You’re never ever ever getting back together.)

— How oceans are like a school bully. (Do you feel lucky? Well do you, punk? / Come at me, bro.)

How oceans are part of a vast right wing conspiracy. (You’re gonna need a bigger boat. / There’s no other explanation.)

— How sharks can help you predict the future. (I want to know! Your readers do, too. That’s why psychic hotlines still make money. / A spoonful of silliness can make even the driest topic go down. Do not overdose.)

— Will sharks ever rule the world? (If your keyword is Prince Charles, chances are no.)

— The 14 worst songs about sharks. (Well, it has to be about something.)

Some are actually good, like: why our world would end without oceans, or 10 insane (but true) things about sharks, or where oceans are headed in the next 5 years, or why sharks are killing you, or how sharks aren’t as bad as you think. Of course, the final touch is the admonition at the bottom of the page, and I leave you with it:

“It’s funny when Ralph Wiggum invents his own grammar, but most of us aren’t nearly that special.”

Upcoming A-Z Blog Challenge

After much deliberation, considering the pros and cons and how much writing I will get done in between entries, I have decided to do the A-Z Blog Challenge for August.

For those who don’t know what it is, it’s where a blogger writes an entry every day (except Sundays), devoting each day to a letter of the alphabet. Typically, it’s done in April, but I didn’t do that last year and I’m not doing it according to schedule this year, either.*shrug* I found it tiring, exhausting, rewarding, and ultimately something I had a lot of fun with last year, so I decided to do it again. August will be the last month this year I can really do it, so here we are.

Essentially, I will start with the letter A on Saturday, August 1st and write an entry about whichever subject I choose, as long as it starts with the letter A (i.e. Absolutely Fabulous, abscess, abyssal trench, abominable snowman — which I did last year, angler fish, etc.) It’s definitely a time to show off the randomness that’s always in my head.

Also, given the stages of my current writing project, despite all the progress I’m making, with edits and proofreading and (of course) writing and finishing the damned thing, I find it difficult to believe that I will have anything else published this year. (And frankly this releasing only one project a year bullshit is annoying and has to stop). I may find a short story subject I like and do that, in fact I’d love to at least have that, but if this current project requires more, then I’ll give it the attention it deserves.

So, my release this next month may be the only one I have this year, and I’d at least like to write and get a little more out there, even if it’s only on this relatively small blog. All while working on my new stuff.

The randomness helps my brain focus and come up with all sorts of other ideas and thoughts, so I’m looking forward to it. It’s exhausting and there will be days I just don’t want to have anything to do with it, but I will. I’m stubborn enough to stick with it.

So, I hope to entertain some of you and maybe get some new readers. I shall see you all again on Thursday, as usual, and then again on Saturday to start the madness.

Wish me luck and the power of entertainment!

Release Date, Blurbs, and Excerpt!

So, my short story titled “Threads of Discord” will be released in the Mythologically Torqued vol. 2 anthology (Male/male and female/female couplings) on 08/19/15.

They had sent us a fantastic cover which I had planned to display here — a picture of a black-winged female warrior in battle armor and a winged helmet wielding a scythe — but then were told at the last minute that we weren’t using that cover. *sigh* I hope the new cover is as good as this false one, because it was amazing. When I get the actual one, I will post it.

More good news is that there are 18 authors, and the anthology will come to 102k words. According to the publisher’s guidelines, that means it will go to print (anything over 60k does). So, it will be available in print and eBook format. Also, the eBook formats will have the entire anthology and each individual story available separately if so desired.

My story involves the dreaded love triangle and an initially indecisive guy trying to pick the best suitor for him. The gods…they all have their favorites and aren’t afraid to beat the hell out of each other for them. I am sure that the anthology will contain some explicit sex, but mine does not. There is a heavy implication (as in two guys are naked in bed together after having done the horizontal twist), but I’ve never been one to be explicit in my writings. So, if some people are on the fence and that’s a factor, there’s the information you might be looking for.

Below are the excerpts and back of the book blurb and all that.

Two line blurb, meant to catch the attention enough for you to read the synopsis:

 

At a crossroads of destiny, Riley must choose between two potential loves. As he sets to make his choice the gods intervene, and their battle will shake both Olympus and Earth.

 

The synopsis/marketing blurb/back of the book stuff:

 

The Fates discover a Thread of Life whose choice in romance will shape his future as well as the potential future of mankind. Consulting Athena, the Fates are joined by several other gods, and a battle for candidates ensues, alternatingly peaceful, devious, and vicious. Meanwhile on Earth, Riley is unsure of his growing attachment to the hunky surfer Dylan when the enigmatic and gorgeous Evo comes into his life. He casually dates both men, his internal tension mounting, until the battle of gods and human desire explodes in a climax whose outcome could mean everything.

 

And finally, an excerpt:

 

All the gods gasped as Eros’ golden arrow of love was rendered in two.

Ares’ great sword glowed red with the flames of war and chaos. Eros’ arrow burned with these flames and fell into the Pool, dissolving into nothing.

Athena whirled, her shield in her hand, and struck Ares in the face with it. There was a great clanging as Ares flew back, striking the marble lip of a nearby planter. He rebounded, landing on his feet, his lip bleeding. He was laughing.

“How dare you?” Athena said, her sword in her hand. “It is not our place to interfere…”

“Nice hit, sister,” Ares said. “But I beg to differ with you — it is our place. Is that not why we are here?”

“It is why I am here,” she said, her body pulsing with controlled wrath. The owl Nycti appeared and flapped to her shoulder, ready for battle. “It is why the Fates are here. It is NOT why you are here.”

“Apollo mentioned that Riley is one of his,” Ares said, walking forward. He pointed his flaming sword at the Pool. It showed Dylan, the tall, handsome, blond male who had been involved with Riley in the past. “Dylan is one of mine. And I will fight for him, sister.”

“We are not measuring the situation properly,” Lachesis said, stepping forward. “This is for the good of the Web of Life. This is to shape Riley into the best that he can be. This is not about who we favor.”

“I like the strong one,” Aphrodite said, smiling. She frowned at Eros. “And who told you to shoot that arrow?”

Eros bowed. “It is not for either of us to decide. The arrows tell me. The Universe tells me.”

“I’m with Aphrodite,” Artemis said, shocking them all.

Apollo looked at his sister in disgust. “Since when do you like strong men? Or men at all?”

Artemis scowled at him and tossed the forgotten apple at his head. Apollo caught it in his mouth, took a bite, and raised his eyebrows at her.

 

Hopefully, this will intrigue some people out there. The anthology has some good authors, and should be worth picking up. *crossing fingers, toes, and various other parts*

Childhood Books In the Present

I was an avid reader when I was a kid. I might as well have eaten the books I was reading, because I consumed them in every other way — I memorized them, I ingested them, I pictured them, I loved them. Adult life intrudes now and I don’t read nearly as much as I would like. It doesn’t help that I read very, very slowly depending on what I’m reading and how much time I give it.

Recently, I decided to go back and read some old favorites from childhood and have been doing this on and off throughout the year. The great ones, the classics, tend to become deeper and richer through experiencing them as an adult. Others are indelibly children’s books and give little other than nostalgic joy. Others…well, others don’t hold up so well and are, in fact, quite disappointing. The feeling of visiting your childhood haunts and magical lands pales, and you see all the tricks, the pitfalls, and the problems.

I have recently read The Wizard of Oz, The Marvelous Land of Oz, and Ozma of Oz and plan to keep going with L. Frank Baum’s series. The books get more and more sophisticated as they go on, especially with the introduction of the Patchwork Girl (even Baum said he knew he was writing his best work when writing The Patchwork Girl of Oz). However, they are exactly what Baum intended them to be — fairy tales for children. Baum intended them to be a pleasant change from the dark fantasies of the Grimm brothers and even Anderson (think of the original ending to The Little Mermaid if you don’t think he was twisted, too). And that’s all they do. There is an impressive series of moments and some beautiful lore, and some genuinely funny scenes, but they are kid’s books that can be enjoyed by adults in a whimsical way.

Then we have the meatier young adult books and the Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander immediately springs to mind. This series contains the book The Black Cauldron, which Disney massacred into an animated movie. *A moment of silence for Disney’s murder of Eilonwy by turning her into a typical, trite, boring princess* They are still funny, engaging, and will tear at your heart in some cases. The Chronicles of Narnia are still great. I’ve discussed my wishy-washy devotion to these books before, but in the end, allegory aside (or included, whatever makes you happy), they are probably the ones that shaped my fantasy-loving mind the most as a child. Minotaurs, banshees, dryads, talking animals, etc. They live on in my mind still and will likely always have a place there.

After graduating from all this as a kid, my ex-stepdad got me A Spell for Chameleon by Piers Anthony. I don’t believe my stepdad had ever read a whole book in his entire life, but he liked the picture on the cover and thought I would like it. I did. Very, very much. I ate those books up and thought they were the height of fantasy. (I was young, don’t judge). I read all of them up to about book 17. That’s where I just couldn’t anymore. There are ones I still go back and read and enjoy, and they are on my list for later this year, Castle Roogna and Night Mare specifically. Both involve wars fought with magic and mundane means and felt as epic as I thought things could be at the time. Those still affect me and kindle my imagination, puns be damned.

Piers Anthony’s Incarnations of Immortality books are still great. The problem with this series for newcomers is that the first book is so strong, and the second is the weakest of all of them, though the third picks right back up again. From other lifelong fans of this series, I have been warned to never, EVER read the eighth book, Under a Velvet Cloak, so I haven’t. I can’t have an opinion other than I can’t imagine why it was ever written (16 years after the series supposedly ended). But the series itself opened my mind even more to taking something we all know (Death, Time, Fate, War, Nature, Evil, and Good) and making them into offices, jobs that real people stepped into. This stuck with me, too. The accoutrements of the offices and the set, specific abilities each had taught me something about world building with magical creatures. And limits.

From there I graduated to Mercedes Lackey, reading Magic’s Pawn. I recently reread that and the second one, Magic’s Promise. I felt this was a step up, though I became familiar with her early foibles — rape featuring in way too many books, a limp sense of humor, characters who whine or cower — but became enchanted with her world building and her unfaltering ability to kick your emotions. I read only six of her books, and the stories encourage me to continue, so it straddles both nostalgia and discovery. Also, she did gay characters decently well, managed to not have them turn into raging stereotypes, and didn’t make the book all about being gay and therefore allowing it to appeal to a wider audience.

There are more — plenty more — but those are what I’m reading now. They taught me about fantasy, about my own childhood, and continue to linger in my adult writer’s brain. Sometimes trips to the past are more rewarding than they have any right to be, and this rediscovery has been of that kind.

Edits Done, Work Begun

I couldn’t help the cheesy title.

So, I turned in my last edits earlier this week (and am happy to announce that during this round I had only two marks from the line-reading editor and one from my main editor). Now I have the pre-galleys to go over, which means reading the story again, and sending that back today.

However, I have started the actual writing on my newest project. All the preliminary work took way longer than I wanted it to, mainly because I just wasn’t doing it. Then, in a flurry of activity, I got all I wanted to (and something I added on at the last minute) done in about two weeks. I may add something else, just to keep names straight, but I wanted to start. The synopsis is subject to change and has been started, but overall, I’m done with the preliminary work.

It feels good to start something new, intimidating to start something more in depth like this, and almost like an adventure begun. I know how I want this to turn out, what the plot is in a skeletal manner, and that feeling of riding forward with no paved road and only a vague destination is both intoxicating and frightening. It’s driving me onward, though. Usually I get intimidated and stop, but I don’t think so this time. I’m keeping the ball rolling.

My next pitfall will be when my current short story, Threads of Discord, is finally published. I won’t have anything on the horizon other than the current work and lots of plans for lots of different stories which are nowhere near even being started. That’s where I can get aimless and let my attention wander. I think the solution there is to only allow my attention to wander in one place — my next story/novel after that.

If it’s that distraction I need, if I have to bounce back and forth between things to really (ironically) focus, then it might as well be on something productive, rather than lying around in my room and watching endless hours of Netflix (or recently, my old Tales from the Crypt DVDs). Am I a split personality? Does anyone else need more than one thing going on to really keep moving?

Regardless, I now have an editor with whom I get along, who can resolve a difference of opinions easily and calmly (and without being condescending), and who has a streak of something I appreciate more than I can say — common sense. If I move on and try a different publisher, I won’t be able to take her with me, but she should be at my current one, and that’s enough to erase some of what has passed and change my perspective. That, along with all the other positive events in my life right now, is a main reason why I’m so eager to work. I need to find that internally and keep it active all the time, but until I can do that, external stimulation and enthusiasm will keep me on track.

Things are looking good, and I’m excited for the future.

Working Out Sucks

Do people actually like working out? Sure, we like the results — being healthier, having your body listen to what you tell it to rather than just coughing and glancing back at the Enquirer, the way a healthy body looks can’t be beat, and you can deter all sorts of chronic conditions — but does anyone actually enjoy the pain?

My chiropractor recommend exercises now that I’m recovering from what was apparently an apocalyptic fall (though it seemed like nothing more than an embarrassing tumble) to help me get rid of the last vestiges of the leg and back problems I have been having. The chiropractor seems determined to not just help me support my frame, get strength back to my legs and core, and to stabilize me, but to make me into some bionic strongman. I think he’s going a little too far. I’m reminded of The Simpsons episode where Marge is afraid of flying and sees a therapist. After curing Marge of her fear, the therapist wants to go into other areas (namely, Marge’s marriage). Homer barges in and quickly says, “That’s okay, you don’t have to make her into some kind of superwoman. She can get on a plane; that’s plenty.”

That’s what I feel like.

It’s hard for me to just get up and walk. My chiropractor claims that this will go away through core exercises and continued adjustments. He said that when I start doing the exercises, I would probably find that my core is abnormally weak. Among these exercises are the Death Plank. It’s like being in a push up position, body straight, only you’re leaning on your forearms, not your hands. It makes a difference.

Like this, though I can assure you that I do NOT have this body.

Another he wants me to do is the Beastly Side Plank, which is the same thing, but sideways, and more painful.

And with the resting hand in the air, just to throw the fear of vertigo in you.

I did it one day and I was in pain for two. I didn’t even hold it for very long, just 30 seconds on each side. As I was suffering in muscle pain, I heard the voice of my chiropractor like in one of those 80s flashback moments. “Abnormally weak core…weak core…weak core…” Bastard. Also, my shins and legs aren’t used to this or ANY activity any more. I used to walk to and from work for a total of three miles a day. I was working out. I’m still young. And now I feel I have the muscle tone and grace of the Cryptkeeper.

I do have better skin, though.

He wants me to go for walks. He wants me to do pull ups (no reason other than he apparently thinks I have weak shoulders and wants me to broaden my chest. Yes, he actually said this last part.) So, is he a chiropractor or a personal trainer? Granted, he’s in great shape and I would do well to listen to him for multiple reasons, but that line from The Simpsons comes back into my head over and over again.

In the end, I would like to be healthier, to walk those miles again without strain, to beef up my allegedly weak shoulders and chest, and to have a core that doesn’t crap out after one time of exercising. So, I’ll do it. But I won’t like it. Because working out sucks.

Joys of Shark Week

Okay, I’m a nut for almost anything to do with the ocean and always have been. Sharks have always scared the hell out of me, but they have also fascinated me. I had this dual reaction when I was a kid, after studying and writing a research paper in 5th grade. I was at the beach and about knee deep in water. I saw a small shark — I thought it was an angelshark at the time, but was probably wrong — just lazily swim past me. I was immediately transfixed by its beauty, its rightness in its home, and the fact that I was actually witnessing nature, a wild animal, swimming past me. And then I realized that an animal — most likely a small shark of some sort — swam within a foot of me.

I think I walked on water. I ran back onto the shore, knees practically hitting my chin, and stayed there for some time. Nobody seemed very impressed by what I saw. After all, it wasn’t a Megalodon or a great white. Hell, it wasn’t even a measly blue shark. I looked for the rest of the day and never saw anything else. The most I have seen since has been from the pier — dolphins and seals sort of dancing in the water not too far from shore, during a surfing contest (showing us paltry humans who the REAL masters of the water are). That was also a very beautiful moment. One other time, I was hanging with some friends in winter at the beach, all bundled up and ditching work when what looked like a small seal took great interest in the three of us. It would swim to one side, pop up, stare at us from the water, swim farther, pop up, stare at us, swim closer, and repeat over and over. There’s an inexplicable beauty in seeing these creatures totally by chance in their native habitats.

Whatever. Ever since that moment when I was a small child, my love of sharks reached insane levels. I don’t mention it much, but during Discovery’s Shark Week, I am less successful in hiding my inner geek. I have watched some of this year, like the “ghost cage” (why was that troglodyte above the water shouting about the big sharks? Dude, there are cameras down there. We know that. Not get your skinny, not-terribly-bright ass back in there and hold that door shut!), the breaching makos, the supposed serial killer shark, and more. It has been fun, and I pretty much have sharks on most of the time I’m awake.

I also have last year’s Shark Week on my DVR and have been watching some of those. I broke down and bought one of my favorite Shark Week shows, Blood in the Water, from Amazon streaming, a reenactment/period piece about the Jersey Shore attacks in 1916, which inspired the book for Jaws. I’m also reading Close to Shore by Michael Capuzzo, which covers the same period. (It’s currently $1.99 on Kindle if you’re interested. Probably in honor of Shark Week). I watched the Top 10 Sharkdown where they discuss the 10 deadliest sharks to mankind (unless you’re a shark geek, you may not guess the top killer/danger), Alien Sharks, the magical and special Voodoo Sharks, and other ones. It has been fun. What do I do after, when Shark Week draws to a close? I can watch old episodes or Blood in the Water over and over.

I will think about that next week when the withdrawals set in. Until then, I think I’m off to watch more sharks.